


An Aberrant Appetite

by Domokoru



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dinner, Dubious Consent, F/M, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Female Ejaculation, Force-Feeding, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Masturbation, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Probably ooc, Stuffing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, fuck you, hurt/comfort... kind...of??, italic abuse, kinky!emmy + oblivious!desmond, no betas we die like men, secret fetishist? lmfao, small peepee complex, stealth stuffing? lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domokoru/pseuds/Domokoru
Summary: Her eyes were bigger than his stomach.Just a Demmy PWP stuffing fic. Keep scrolling.
Relationships: Emmy Altava/Desmond Sycamore
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. The Feast

For the past several weeks, the Bostonius had smelled of delicious food almost every evening. Emmy had been practicing cooking all of her favorite foods that she'd tried while she and her friends searched the world for the Azran "eggs". Though her true passion was for photography, Emmy had a bit of a knack for cooking as well, but she didn't enjoy the cleanup afterward. The brunette could easily identify flavors in the foods she ate and recreate them with surprising accuracy in her own kitchen. She wiped the sweat dripping down her brow with a handkerchief. Emmy had been slaving away most of the day cooking her most ambitious meal yet, a full-blown feast. Suddenly, the kitchen door creaked open behind her.

"Wow, it smells _incredible_ in here!" Desmond had just returned from another excavation in the nearby Stralbog ruins. He stepped in the kitchen to take a look, but didn't make it far before Emmy trotted over to push him back outside.

"Out, out, out! You can't look until it's done!" She gave him a peck on the lips once they reached the doorway. "Get cleaned up first, okay? It'll be ready by then." It didn't matter how long they'd been together, every time Emmy kissed Desmond, it was a pleasant surprise for him. 

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit then." He walked off to take a shower as Emmy sighed in relief. She still had time to finish her last few dishes and set the table. Luckily for her, Desmond had a penchant for opulence, so she had an array of beautiful tableware at her disposal to cover the long mahogany dining room table. After flapping out a white, silken tablecloth, she went to work. 

* * *

Desmond had used Emmy finishing with dinner as an excuse to take a bath, giving her extra time just in case. He dried his hair and curled it back into his usual buns. He opted to come back out in a clean dress shirt and slacks, for a combination of comfort and formality. 

"Have you finished ye _—_ " Desmond paused mid-question to gawk at the arrangement on the table. Plates lined the dining room table to the edges, adorned with all sorts of dishes that looked straight out of a cooking magazine. Looking closely, there were foods he remembered trying during the Azran expedition; Mosinnian chicken kebabs with yogurt sauce, ravioli stuffed with Phong Gi mushrooms and cheese smothered in alfredo sauce, buttery lobster tails from San Grio, Torrido-style cuts of steak and barbecued ribs, and fresh baked bread made with stone-ground flour from Hoogland. At the center of the table stood several bottles of sparkling apple cider and a striking dessert stand with three tiers: the bottom-most tier featured a dozen spice cupcakes topped with chai frosting and cinnamon, the middle tier had a dozen miniature cheese tarts adorned with marionberries and edible flowers, and the topmost tier was piled high with multicolored macarons. Desmond wasn't always fond of sweets, but Emmy had baked all of his favorites. He made a mental note to leave room for dessert. Emmy stood in the kitchen doorway, watching his reaction with a grin as she untied her apron. "How's it look?" 

"A-Amazing...!" He sat down at one end of the table. "What's the occasion?" He asked as Emmy brought him a plate and cutlery. "Did I forget an anniversary?"

"Oh, nothing like that! Actually, it's because..." She hesitated mid-sentence, looking down into his auburn eyes to see innocent love and warmth sparkle back at her. Did she really want to tell him the truth? Emmy liked to cook every now and then, sure, but she _especially_ wanted to cook for Desmond. Even before they became an item, she had caught herself staring at the man often, particularly during meals. Emmy always tried to sit next to or across from him when the group stopped to eat. She'd accidentally stumbled upon... A hyperfixation? An obsession? A fetish? The girl wasn't quite sure, but one thing she _was_ sure of was that she couldn't get enough of it. Somehow, Desmond unwittingly made every food that passed his lips seem like it fell to earth from the heavens themselves. He'd smile around the fork and close his eyes in pleasure, practically moaning when he let out an "Mmm!" Even when they were in a hurry, the scholar would take his time to savor every last bite of his food. If they were eating finger food, he'd even go as far as to lick his fingers clean when he thought nobody was looking. By the end of it all, he'd lean back in his chair, drumming his fingers on his stomach, and breathing deeply as if he was basking in some sort of afterglow. Emmy always had to wonder, did he realize what he was doing? Was it all a calculated ploy to get to her? If it was, it had certainly worked. _No,_ this wasn't the time to bring it up. 

"...I-It's just because I love you!" Emmy gave as a vague excuse to divert the conversation away from her motives. The man beamed.

"Well, I love you too, darling!" The only pieces falling into place in Desmond's head were that for the past few weeks when Emmy had been asking him to sample dishes, it had been in preparation for this banquet of a dinner. _So that's what it was all about!_

Emmy walked over to sit at the other end of the table. She wanted to be closer to her love, but for the time being she'd sit in the "proper" location so he wouldn't see how little she'd be eating. Emmy had the tendency to eat quickly anyway, and she also intended to leave as much food as possible for Desmond. Taking a small portion of each dish, she began to eat at her usual speed, nearly finishing while the man opposite to her continued to slowly pile food onto his plate. After gulping down her cup of sparkling cider, she pulled her chair over to sit close to Desmond at the other side of the table.

"Where's your plate?" He asked. 

"Oh, I'm done already." Emmy shifted her eyes away. "I... had to taste the food while I was cooking, right? So I already had a lot." It wasn't a complete lie, but it was still a stretch. The man blinked at her. "Look, you know I eat fast. Go at your own pace. Tell me about your day." She waved her hand at him, motioning to keep eating without her, before balancing her elbows on the edge of the table and resting her chin in her palms. 

"If you're sure..." Desmond bit into a thick slice of buttered bread to start. Emmy noticed the same little reaction he always displayed and smiled at him. "Mmm... _Wow._ "

"Good?" She ventured.

" _Very_ good," he confirmed. If Emmy could fist-pump at the fancy dinner table without looking a fool, she would've. "Oh! So today at the Stralbog site..." Emmy began to tone the scholar out as she watched him enjoy her food. He talked between bites and she nodded when it seemed appropriate, but she just couldn't focus on his usual archaeological ramblings tonight. No, tonight was _special._ Emmy wanted to see this man bursting at the seams, full of her own delicious cooking. He was already attractive, sure, but she secretly thought he'd look even hotter if he packed on a few pounds to soften his lanky frame. Even if it was just for a day, a temporary belly, she wanted to experience it. Unfortunately, her plan hit a snag. Desmond, like the woman before him, only ate about a small plate of food. Though the few dishes he had tried were excellent, he couldn't stop stealing glances at the dessert tower. 

"Emmy, be a dear and pass me a tart?" The girl snapped out of her daze.

"Huh? You're done with dinner already!? But you didn't even _try_ everything! You only had bread and chicken...!" Emmy flustered the man in front of her with her sudden reaction.

"Y-Yes, but I wanted to save room for dessert..." 

Oh no, Emmy was _not_ about to give up this easily. The girl refused to let her weeks of cooking practice and preparation to go to waste. She put on the saddest face she could muster and choked on a fake sob.

"But I made all this for _you._ "

"Well, did Raymond have any yet?" Emmy cursed internally. If it was a battle of wits this man wanted, a battle of wits he'd get.

"He got a plate while you were in the bath."

"We can keep the leftovers."

"It'll never be as good as it is fresh! Besides, we don't have room in the fridge for all of this." Emmy gestured at the spread from emphasis.

"Why did you make this much food anyway?" Desmond noticed that the serving sizes were closer to that of a buffet table at a party than for a ship of only three passengers.

"...I forgot to halve the recipes." It was a total lie. In fact, she'd doubled the recipes, even tripling some. "You can have dessert when you clear this out." The man looked at the table, then looked at her, wordlessly doubting that was even humanly possible.

"You're a gentleman, aren't you? Don't you want to make your girlfriend happy after she worked her fingers to the bone cooking for you all day?" Emmy begged, batting her long, dark eyelashes at him. "Pwease~?" Desmond sighed and silently started to shovel more bread and chicken onto his plate. "Now where were we again? You said there was a legend of a vase?" Emmy reassumed her position, chin in her hands as she listened and watched Desmond eat. He perked back up at the reminder of his excavation. 

"Oh, yes! The Vase of Timaios! The legend says that any plant placed in the vase would turn to gold..." The scholar continued his spiel as he bit into another slice of bread. Crisp on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside, it was baked to perfection. The only thing that could make it better was the Hoogland Farms butter on the side. Desmond could swear with each thick slice of bread he became even hungrier. With that kind of effect, it was easy for him to go quickly through all three baskets, each holding a large loaf's worth of slices. Emmy locked eyes with him as he finished, quickly looked over to the rest of the food out of the corner of her eye, and looked back at him. He got the message and begrudgingly dragged two more platters near to him as Emmy pulled the other two he couldn't reach.

Next was the pile of chicken kebabs. Even after having a couple earlier, there were a whopping eighteen left on the plate, all made with generous amounts of meat. Desmond thought he would struggle with this dish especially, quickly growing fatigued at the taste of meat. To his surprise, the tanginess of the yogurt sauce cut through the richness of the smoky herb-encrusted meat quite nicely. The only trial here was the inherently awkward shape of skewered food; by the last kebab, the corners of his mouth were dirtied with spices from the chicken. Emmy noticed, but he looked too cute for her to tell him and risk him rubbing it off with a napkin.

After a large tray of protein, Desmond was starting to feel the effects of the meal in his gut. Both his stomach and the lids of his eyes felt heavier, but he forced himself to press on for his beloved. Next were the lobster tails. Desmond remembered particularly liking them at Bud's Bar and Grill in San Grio, even if Bud presenting the food in "popoños" was a bit jarring. Emmy had taken a more minimalist approach, delicately arranging the twelve lobster tails in a circle with leafy garnishes surrounding a bowl of lemon butter in the middle. 

"And so, obviously the Vase of Timaios did not turn plants to gold, but the minerals of the glaze inside it led to accelerated growth of plants that were heavily sought after by the people of Stralbog." Desmond finished his story as he reached for a lobster tail. Emmy realized his speech was over, so she pressed him to keep talking so he would keep mindlessly eating and she could remain free to mindlessly watch him eat. Emmy quickly wracked her brain for another legend or archeology-related story he'd told her recently.

"That reminds me of the story about the... the Soviet-something one." 

"Ah, Soviedo? Yes, they had a similar artifact..." Emmy let out the small breath she was holding. He'd taken the bait and the status quo was restored. Desmond continued to talk as he pulled the plate closer so he could more easily reach the butter sauce in the center. He picked up an already adequately buttery bit of lobster and dipped it again for good measure. After tasting it, his hand whipped upward to stifle a moan. "Oh god... Emmy, you are _such_ a good cook."

"Aww, thanks Puddin'!" Emmy made eye contact to acknowledge the compliment and giggled, tearing her gaze away from the lemon butter he was unknowingly dripping onto his white dress shirt. She could see the smallest flashes of tan skin peeking out between the buttons. The girl could only wonder if her love was still adequately distracted or if he was beginning to feel the dull ache of fullness around his midsection.

Emmy's unspoken hunch was correct; Desmond's stomach began to ache and strain a bit against its confines. With every bite he took, he could feel the seams of his shirt dig into his skin a little bit more, but the lobster was so lemony and garlicky and _good_ that it was quite easy to ignore his growing discomfort. Butter dripped down his chin as he continued to work his way around the plate. 

"So the citizens of... the civilization..." Desmond panted. It was getting harder to talk, eat, and breathe all at the same time, which slowed his speech significantly. He paused again to gulp down the last bit of lobster, his shirt now visibly straining to keep his expanding stomach clothed. The man reached for a napkin to wipe his mouth, but Emmy saw this and jumped in to do the job for him. 

"Here, I'll get it." Emmy licked her thumb and wiped it over his chin. After getting all the butter, she held it in front of his mouth. "We can't have you wasting any." Desmond took the digit into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it to clean it. Emmy held back a moan. He was sucking it like he was sucking her clit, and she was wet enough already from watching him stuff himself for her. Desmond pulled back, releasing her finger to continue with the next plate of food. Emmy tried to act as though it hadn't affected her nearly as much as it actually had as she watched him move on to the next course.

The next formidable platter was nearly overflowing with large ravioli covered in alfredo. This would be the first dish that Desmond actually needed silverware for, and picking up a fork made him acutely aware of how dirty his fingers were. Visibly embarrassed to do it in front of Emmy, he started sucking his fingers clean as Emmy pretended not to notice. After feeling what he did to her thumb, the sight made her squirm in her chair. 

Desmond picked the fork back up and dug into the ravioli. Each piece was small enough to fit into his mouth, but too big to eat more than one at a time. Bursting the small pocket with his teeth, he was hit with a rush of warm, cheesy goodness with a note of earthiness from the mushrooms. The overall flavor combined with the alfredo was so rich, it made him feel a bit sick.

"I know you asked... about Soviedo, but... I think I need... to focus on eating..." Desmond huffed, his voice thick with fullness. Emmy patted his shoulder.

"That's alright. Here, I'll pour you some more cider." She may or may not have specifically chosen a carbonated drink for this dinner to help puff his stomach out a bit more, but she wasn't about to admit it. The crisp, acidic sweetness of the cider was enough to cut through the decadent pasta, so Desmond began alternating between the two, one ravioli, one sip of cider. He continued this pattern until only leftover sauce remained on the plate. 

Adding yet another meal to his straining stomach obviously made him feel worse, but he was surprised at the effects of the sparkling cider; Desmond's stomach was bubbling and churning away at his glut of food like a witch's cauldron. Both his skin and his shirt were beginning to stretch tight to compensate, and the shirt was holding on by its last threads. The professor leaned forward to reach the last savory dish, but the strain of movement was too much for his dress shirt. Not one but two buttons popped off, hitting the table with a _plink-plink._ Both were at the roundest area of his midsection, and his navel was exposed to the warm air of the dining room. Utterly embarrassed, Desmond leaned back into his chair again. Emmy pushed the plate forward for him and scooted her chair closer to encourage him further.

"You're doing such a good job for me." She moved to rub his shoulder and kiss some food off his cheek. He really _was_ exceeding her expectations; of course she wanted to see him stuff himself silly with her cooking, but she didn't think he could actually do it. Desmond had somewhat of a dad bod. For someone so agile and skilled at fencing, he wasn't very muscular. He was tall and lanky, complemented with a small belly that was only visible when he was shirtless. It seemed to be a source of self-consciousness for him, even though Emmy constantly reassured him he looked perfectly fine. In fact, she _loved_ his soft tummy, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it. The young woman wanted to touch it right this second, while it was especially swollen, but she restrained herself to his shoulder and arm.

With a renewed motivation to finish after getting kisses from his favorite person in the world, Desmond shifted in his chair to get into a more comfortable position to keep eating. The last dish was the steak and ribs, dripping in barbecue glaze. The steak was sliced thin, but there were a _lot_ of slices circling the ribs. Stabbing his first piece with a fork, Desmond slowly brought it to his lips, his stomach begging him to let it rest. His muddled brain won the debate as the tender, flavorful meat practically melted in his mouth, increasing the small amount of vigor he had left for this binge. Robotically, he kept picking up slice after delicious slice, just trying to end the meal already. 

Desmond didn't realize it until he looked down, but another button had popped off his shirt at some point. He sighed as deeply as his stomach would allow and grabbed the rack of ribs. Lazily tearing off a rib, he accidentally splattered sauce on his shirt while bringing it up to his mouth. The professor gave the newly-forming stain an exasperated look and continued eating. It didn't matter; the shirt was already missing three buttons now. Desmond was particularly good at sewing, but he didn't want to waste the effort. Besides, he felt like this shirt had been ruined not only physically but mentally for him. The man had plenty of other shirts to wear that wouldn't remind him of the time he horribly embarrassed himself in front of his partner by stuffing himself sick. 

Ripping meat off the bone with his teeth, Desmond groaned again. If he _had_ to eat to the point of feeling heartburn and bile bubbling in his throat, at least it was delicious, homemade food. He continued gnawing lazily on the ribs like a dog, splattering more sauce onto his face and chin. Emmy smiled warmly at him.

"Is that yummy?" Desmond looked over, his auburn eyes as glazed as the ribs he held in his hands. He nodded slowly. 

"...ummy..." His tongue flicked out to get a bit of sauce on the corner of his lips. It was getting to be too much for Emmy. _He's just too cute..._ The girl got up and moved her chair to sit at Desmond's side, only inches apart. 

"Here, I'll take care of this while you keep going." Emmy unbuttoned what buttons still remained on his shirt and pushed it off his stomach. Working her way downwards, she unzipped his trousers. "That's gotta feel better, huh?" Desmond breathed out, relieved to be free from the tightness of his clothes. Emmy kept watching from his side, wishing she'd just sat here from the beginning. She'd wasted so much of her time sitting too far away to hear his quiet grunts of pleasure and pain as he ate, too far away to see the way his belly rose and fell with his strained breathing. _Oh well! There's always next time... Hopefully._ Emmy quietly prayed that somehow she could get away with this without having to go into detail about her fetish and still be able to pull it off again. Maybe she shouldn't push him so hard, but they'd already come this far, after all...

_Clack. Clack. Clack._ Bones piled up on the plate as Desmond grew closer to finishing his five-course, ten-person dinner. He began to eat faster, straining his body so he could just be _done_ already. 

_Clack!_ That was it. The professor had cleared every last platter. To finish it off, he sucked the barbecue sauce off his fingers and wiped them on the shirt that still hung around his arms before tossing it to the ground. Desmond let out a painful hiccup and shut his eyes. Emmy beamed at him.

"I'm so proud of you, Puddin'. To be honest, I didn't think you could do it at first..." Emmy chuckled. 

"Me... neither..." Desmond mumbled without opening his eyes. 

"Are you excited for dessert?" The man opened his eyes the tiniest bit to peek at the tower of pastries across from him. He couldn't imagine eating anymore, but he'd had his eyes on the sweets since before dinner even started. Even with barely any room or energy left in his body, his stomach growled just from looking at them.

"Yeah... But first... rest...?" Desmond shut his eyes again.

"Of course you can rest for a bit." Emmy cooed. She tried to help his straining gut by rubbing little circles on it with her fingertips. Desmond whined a bit at the pressure at first, then began to enjoy it. The girl responded to his quiet moans by switching from her fingertips to the entire palm of her hand, softly circling around his navel. He leaned into her touch as much as he could. 

Emmy could do this all day. Seeing her partner with an adorable tummy letting out adorable moans as she massaged him was a priceless reward for her efforts. She found herself satisfied to the point that she could accept him saving the desserts for later. However, the second she completed the thought, Desmond shakily pushed himself back up with his hands to sit up straight. Emmy blinked in surprise as she watched him reach for the dessert tower, but he was hindered by his stomach painfully grinding into the edge of the table. She certainly wasn't going to argue if he wanted to eat more, so the girl pulled the tower within their reach. She grabbed a purple macaron and placed it in her mouth, gently holding it between her teeth.

"'Ere oo 'oh!" Emmy moved in close to Desmond's face, motioning him to take it from her mouth. The dazed man blinked slowly before leaning in to bite the macaron. She let go as he took it into his mouth in one bite. As he chewed, Desmond realized it was lavender flavored. With a crisp outer layer, chewy inside, and soft icing, it was truly a perfect French macaron. Not only that, but the sweetness was a welcome change of pace from the savory flavors of butter, cheese, and meat.

"Sho gooh..." Desmond groaned, reaching for more.

"I'm so glad you like it." Emmy put her hand on his exposed stomach and began massaging it again. It was stretched tight under her fingers, constantly trembling from the desperate churning from within. His belly was outrageously huge, bigger than a beach ball and much heavier. His navel looked like after a bit more food it'd pop out and become an outie. The faint pink streaks of stretch marks were beginning to appear near his hips. Emmy rested her head on it, listening to his heartbeat being drowned out by the sounds of digestion. Sighing blissfully, she pressed her face against him and kissed his tummy before looking back up to check his progress. Desmond had almost made it through the mountain of macarons, mindlessly stuffing multiple of the same flavor in his mouth at a time. It wasn't long before he could start on the second tier of the tower.

"Look, you finally get to have the cheese tarts! Aren't you happy?" Emmy teased.

"Uhn... Uh huh..." Desmond slowly pushed a tart into his mouth. The soft, creamy cheese mixed with the tangy berries in an elegant dance upon his tongue, successfully drawing his attention away from the stinging pain in his stomach for a moment. The man paused to drink more cider to wash down the crumbly crust stuck at the back of his throat and immediately went back to the tarts. 

"It's okay... You're still okay..." Every spot her darling instinctively clutched in pain, Emmy would dig her knuckles into and grind any air out. "You're so close to finishing! You're doing so well. Just a little bit more..." She sang quiet praises to Desmond as she played with his belly. He gave a small grunt to acknowledge her comments, speeding up as much as he physically could. By the time he polished off the dozen, he swore he could feel the food resting right at the bottom of his throat. The man winced just from _looking_ at the cupcakes. While Desmond hesitated, Emmy sat back up to pick up a cupcake and pushed it to his lips. 

"It's your favorite flavor, y'know. Doesn't it smell good?" It _did_ smell awfully good. Desmond poked his tongue out to taste the frosting before taking a big bite. The cupcakes didn't have liners, as Emmy figured they'd be a hassle to unwrap every few minutes. Though, because there was no liner to contain them, crumbs scattered down his front. After he finished the cake in her hand, Emmy swooped down to kiss up all the crumbs that fell on chest. 

Desmond regretted not starting from the bottom tier and working his way up. Finishing up this feast with moist, rich cake topped sugary frosting was a bad decision on his part. All the other times he felt sick during this meal paled in comparison than eating a dozen of those large cupcakes consecutively. He resorted to the faithful "sip of liquid, bite of food" technique, nearly finishing an entire bottle of cider on his own. 

As Desmond used his remaining brainpower to focus on his cider-cake pattern, Emmy watched from below as she laid her cheek on his stomach. Every bit of cake passed agonizingly slowly down his exhausted throat, making his Adam's apple bob. She could feel herself throbbing in quiet excitement, hardly able to wait until he finished and they could retire to their bedroom. Just three left, then two, one... Desmond let out a painful belch. It was finally over.

"You did it! Look at you, you're so good to me, so obedient. I love you so much, the most in the whole world!" Emmy let praises spill out of her lips while helping him up from his chair. He looked on with unfocused eyes, but smiled as much as he could muster. She knew Desmond loved words of affirmation, and she wanted to distract him from the pain and burden of having to get up and walk to the bedroom. The girl would've liked to pick him up bridal-style, but his current shape made him too unwieldy to carry. Instead, she tucked her arm around his back and let him lean against her as they stumbled back to their room. "Such a good boy! You're sooo good! I love you!" Emmy kept praising him right up until he was able to lay belly-up on the bed.

"Mmoh..." Desmond groaned. He still felt sick and ached everywhere, but at least he got to lay down and sprawl out instead of being confined to that god-awful chair. He felt Emmy pull down his trousers that had since fallen to his ankles, and his boxers as well. Another layer of constriction off his body, another moan. The last force Desmond had to contend with was the force of gravity pressing on his midsection. Suddenly, he felt pressure again. Emmy had moved back up and started massaging the underside of his belly, where stretch marks were beginning to develop. He let his eyes flutter shut. That is, until he felt her hands reach lower.

"Wha... _Ah!?_ " Desmond felt himself plunged into intense, tight heat. Emmy had taken his entire length into her mouth to the hilt, swallowing to clench her throat around the tip. Emmy bobbed her head just enough to give him friction, but not enough to expose more than an inch of skin to the open air. Usually the girl would've liked to see the disheveled expression on her darling's face while she gave him head, but his newly-stuffed stomach completely blocked her view. Not that she was complaining, though; shoving her face between his thighs and huge, soft tummy was erotic in its own right. 

Emmy reached a free hand down her pants and grabbed at her clit, fiercely rubbing it with two fingers. She was surprised at just how wet she was, her own juices coating her fingertips. It had only been a few minutes before she pressed her legs together and ground her clit through climax. Usually it took much longer, but this time it was fast and powerful. _He_ has _to let me do this again._ Emmy thought as she refocused on her love, who was shaking from the lack of release. She swirled her tongue around him in her mouth, trying to hit every sweet spot she knew from memory.

Desmond's instinct was to pant, but he found it hard to breathe at all, let alone deeply or quickly. Every time he inhaled, he swore he could feel his lungs being constricted by everything else pushing inside him. Even though it stung a bit, in general he was starting to ache less overall. Yet again, Emmy had a plan, and it was working. She figured that cumming was a pain reliever (at least for her), so why not provide some first-aid? Though she would've loved to explain this to him, he probably wouldn't register any information in his currently addled brain, not to mention her mouth was full of cock at the moment. _Oh well._

It didn't take long for Emmy to feel the telltale throbbing of Desmond's upcoming climax, so she slammed down and sucked harder. He let out splintered gasps as he came into the back of her throat. Desmond got to have Emmy swallow, and Emmy didn't have to taste any of the bitter slop, truly a win-win situation. 

Emmy wriggled out of her clothes and scooted back to her usual place on the bed, facing the man next to her. She felt warm all over, so pleased at how everything turned out. Beaming at Desmond, she kept rubbing his stomach with one hand. Her darling was already sound asleep. Watching the man sleep was oddly calming, and as usual, it wasn't long before she joined him in the land of dreams.

* * *

Emmy woke up the next morning nuzzling Desmond's shoulder. She kissed the skin in front of her and looked up at him. The man was already awake, looking at his stomach sadly. It had only marginally shrunk overnight. The only significant change was that his belly had softened and lost the painful tightness from the night prior. Feeling her movements, he looked over.

"Emmy... Did I do something wrong?" Sadness glimmered in his auburn eyes. She blinked in surprise.

"Huh!? Oh no, Puddin'... Why would you think something like that?" Emmy wormed her arms under and around him into a hug. 

"Why else would you make me eat all that?" Desmond dug his fingers into his belly in an attempt to knead the pain out, making him wince in the process. "It hurts... I feel sick..." Emmy's heart sank at his words, stinging with guilt. 

"I'm sorry... I..." Emmy really hadn't wanted to reveal her motivations, but she wasn't about to let Desmond think it was his fault. Her voice lowered to an embarrassed whisper. "I think... It's really sexy when you eat." The man's brow furrowed, making Emmy bury her face into his shoulder. "I... I took it too far. I'm sorry..." He reached his hand over to stroke her hair.

"You could've just told me, darling." Desmond chuckled. "I was completely unaware such a penchant existed." He looked down at her. "I'm not upset with you." The girl peeked back up at him. 

"But you just said it was uncomfortable..." Emmy pouted.

"Well, if it makes you happy then I can handle a little bit of discomfort." Desmond winked at her. "Plus, your cooking really _is_ good." Her face flushed at his words.

"Then..." Emmy hesitated. _Am I being too greedy?_ "...We can do it again sometime?" Desmond paused, closing his eyes in mock deep thought, pursing his lips.

"As long as you give me notice ahead of time..." He looked over slyly at her. "And let me make menu requests." Emmy snorted.

"I think that can be arranged." 


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've made a routine of Emmy's kink, but it has long-term effects on Desmond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoilers for the second trilogy of the series.
> 
> CW: fat-shaming/self hate... like, he fat-shames himself.

After the night that Emmy confessed to having a feeding kink and Desmond agreed to indulge her now and then, things seemed to be going all right for the couple. After a few days of only drinking bone broth, tea, and water, Desmond's body had successfully conquered his massive binge. An outsider wouldn't have even known anything had happened, save a few stretch marks near his hips. The man had worried the first couple of days, but Emmy had constantly reassured him that the weight would come off, and so it did. 

The couple reached a compromise in which they would repeat the events prior, albeit on a smaller scale, about every other week. Emmy cooked whatever her partner wanted at the moment. Desmond had received several unique feasts to treat himself to over the past few months: a tall stack of large, greasy pizzas with the works and stretchy, gooey cheese; a meal consisting entirely of breakfast pastries, featuring platters of pancakes, waffles, donuts, and cinnamon rolls as large as his face; the homemade equivalent of an entire fast food restaurant's menu, featuring multi-pound burgers and thick, sweet milkshakes, to name a few. By stretching his stomach more often, it became easier for him to eat massive quantities of food and increase the amount with each meal. 

After a few months of this pattern, Desmond finally noticed the effects of the routine as he was getting ready in the mirror for the day. He buttoned his shirt from the top as usual until he got to the bottom. It wouldn't reach around him at all. By sucking in his stomach and forcefully tugging both halves of the shirt's placket, he managed to button it. It held together for a good three seconds before a button burst off and hit the full-length mirror in front of him. 

_Huh?_ Desmond shrugged his shirt off and examined himself in the mirror. The man disliked having to look at his own body in the mirror when it wasn't necessary, so he hadn't noticed how much it had changed. His stomach was notably larger, soft and padded all the way around, spilling over his hips. He was also starting to develop fat around his chest. The boxers he wore to replace his lately inexplicably tight briefs were digging into his skin and struggling to stretch over his thick thighs. The width of his thighs only rivaled that of his slightly saggy upper arms. Desmond gave himself a dejected look upon seeing his chubby-cheeked reflection staring sadly back at him.

Waking up later than him, as she usually did, Emmy rubbed her eyes and noticed her partner getting ready in front of the mirror. She quietly got up and hugged him from behind. Desmond flinched in surprise at the feeling of her soft pajamas on his skin.

"Mornin'!" He didn't respond. Emmy stood on her tiptoes to peek over his shoulder and look at his face in the mirror. "Puddin', what's wrong?" She asked after seeing how depressed he looked.

"You said it would go away..." Desmond sighed. "You said I would just lose the weight again. It happened the first time." He grabbed and pulled at his newly-formed love handles. Emmy frowned and rubbed his back. 

"I'm sorry. I usually don't have a problem with it, but I guess you have a slower metabolism than me." She entangled her hands with his and rubbed his hips. "If it makes you feel any better, you know I love you no matter how you look." Desmond sighed again.

"I know you do, but _I_ don't want to look like this." He let go of her hands. The man couldn't tear his eyes away from the mirror. "What do I do...?" It hurt Emmy to see her love so distraught over anything, especially his appearance, _especially_ when it was her fault. She moved in front of him so she could make actual eye contact.

"Are there any types of exercise you like? We could exercise together." Emmy thought a second and her eyes lit up. "Oh! We could fence! You can teach me how to sword fight!" He shook his head. "Why not?"

"I..." Desmond lowered his voice, "...wouldn't fit in my lamé like this." He was reminded of his predicament and looked at his feet.

"There has to be some kind of cardio that would work for you..." Emmy looked him up and down. Of course she wouldn't push her own preferences on Desmond, but _god_ did he look sexy. Suddenly, a light bulb flashed on in her mind. Emmy felt bad for tricking him into participating in her kinks, but this time she was certain he'd like it too.

"This is technically my fault, so..." Emmy wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her front to his. "You can use my body however you want." Desmond's face flushed at her offer.

"H-Huh!?" He stammered.

"Sex is great cardio!" Emmy grinned up at him. 

"You would really let me... while I look like _this?_ " Desmond bit his lip and frowned at his reflection again. Emmy sighed inwardly. After everything they'd been through lately, he _still_ had doubts about her being attracted to him? She wanted to scream that feeling him through the thin fabric of her pajamas was making her insanely horny even though she'd just woken up, but she held back.

"Of _course._ " Emmy ground her hips against his to physically encourage him. "I _just said_ I love you no matter how you look." _Especially like this._ Desmond gave her a sad smile.

"If you're sure..."

Tugging him by the hand away from the mirror, Emmy led Desmond back to bed, holding herself back from running. She tore off her pajamas and flopped on her back on the bed. The man stood and looked on quietly.

"Well? C'mon, what are you waiting for?" Emmy popped her head up and motioned with her finger for him to join her. He continued to hesitate.

"You want _me_ to be on top? What if I'm too heavy...?" Desmond's face became red-hot with shame once again. Irritated, Emmy groaned and flopped back down again.

"That's the position that'll make you work the hardest. Do you want to burn the fat off or not?" Desmond rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

"Y... Yeah." He gulped and slowly climbed onto the bed, crawling up until he was positioned over Emmy. The girl looked so petite under his large shadow, her arms so thin compared to his own thick ones. "I... I-I can't do thi—"

Before Desmond could finish his thought, Emmy wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him down onto her. He yelped and tried to push himself off, but Emmy held him firmly in place. "Emmy, stop! I'm too heavy!" That didn't deter her at all. If anything, Emmy gripped him harder. Her love felt so _soft_ and warm on top of her. The way his extra mass oozed its way around her petite frame, almost swallowing her whole, felt so _comfortable._ Even though it was hard to breathe with her face buried in his chest, she felt safe and protected. "Emmy...!" Desmond begged again.

"Mo... Lef me emjoy dis." Emmy said, her request muffled under his fat. Truthfully, she could easily sit like this for hours, but she knew it was only a taste of what was to come. Uncrossing her arms and legs, she released him from her grip. "Hurry, fuck me, Des! As hard as you can!" Emmy begged, still catching her breath after being squashed. "...Because the harder and faster you go, the more calories you'll burn." She added after seeing shock at her eagerness in the man's eyes. 

"Um... All right..." Desmond sat up and moved off of her to take off his boxers as she kicked off her underwear onto the floor. Getting the waistband down over his thighs was a struggle. After pressing his legs together as tightly as he could and yanking with some effort, he managed to pull them down, but not without a _snap_ from the elastic breaking. The boxers had left an angry red mark where the waistband dug into his skin. Desmond's lips quivered. Every time moved or attempted to do anything, he loathed his own body even more. He didn't even think he would be able to get it up with how low he felt at that moment. Desmond got back on the bed, which creaked and sank under his weight. He got back on his hands and knees to loom over her. Emmy's face was so flushed, so smooth, so beautiful...

"Hey..." Emmy looked up at him sadly, "I haven't seen you smile even once today." She brought her hands up to his face and held his cheeks. 

"How am I supposed to be happy in this situation?" Desmond choked out. A tear dripped from his eye onto the girl beneath him. Emmy felt awful; she liked seeing him big, but not at the risk of his already low self-esteem.

"I'm sorry... I'll help you get through this. We'll do it together." Emmy pulled him down into a kiss, the movement making more tears spill onto her face. He complied and laid his arms on either side of the girl, propping himself above her. Emmy barely gave any time for regular kisses, moving almost immediately to French kissing. It was quick work to find and tease every sweet spot in and around his mouth. Desmond finally relaxed his muscles and melted into the bed from the kissing. Getting kisses from Emmy was _always_ the best.

As Emmy felt him loosen up and let his full weight sink onto her, she sucked harder. It was getting sloppier as she went, getting drool all around the rim of their mouths. It wasn't about calming him down anymore; this was her own lust kicking into high gear. She shoved her lips into Desmond's softened cheeks, nipping and sucking as hard as she could.

Desmond shuddered at the feeling. He was used to Emmy being dominant, but this time she was especially forceful. He could feel her muscular legs squeeze around him to hold him steady so she could grind her hips up into his torso. Then, she suddenly uncrossed her legs.

"I need it. _Now._ " Emmy said through gritted teeth. Desmond obliged, scooting backward off of her. He stood on his knees, fumbling around for his manhood. It was nearly buried in a cushion of chubby skin, making it look much shorter than it actually was. He was half-hard, but found it difficult to get any more in the mood after looking at yet another area of his body negatively impacted by his new weight. Emmy noticed him sobering up again.

"Here, look." Emmy split her legs as far apart as she could and reached a hand down to spread open her pussy. Recently trimmed, it was easy to see her delicate pink opening, slick with excitement. "It's your favorite..." She whispered between breaths.

Indeed it was. Desmond grabbed what he could of his dick and pumped with short, fast strokes. Actually, he had to admit it was starting to feel better than he expected; the pillowy fat surrounding his length felt like his own personal cock sleeve. Now adequately hard, he lined himself up with Emmy and grabbed her knees for stability. Desmond shoved himself inside with a loud _slap_ of skin-on-skin, trying to grant her request. Unfortunately, his body betrayed him once more. With his stomach jutting out and his dick doing the opposite, the man could only fit the tip inside. Only having the sensitive head surrounded by her tight wetness was admittedly different, but still felt incredible. Though, at the back of his mind, he felt worried that Emmy wouldn't feel anything. The blood rushing away from his head made it hard to ruminate on it any further, and he started shallowly thrusting.

Emmy reached her arms back up, grabbing at Desmond to pull him back down onto her. She sighed as she was blessed with the feeling of being comfortably pressed under his body again. The girl continued where she'd left off before, holding him in place with her arms and legs crossed and rocking her hips in time with his. She began working at his shoulder, giving him hickeys and gently biting them to guarantee they'd last for him to see later. Moving down from his shoulder to his neck, she planted a necklace of small red marks into his skin. Meanwhile, her nails scratched into his back where she held him, leaving even more markings to show he was all hers.

As Desmond had predicted, Emmy's g-spot was being sorely ignored. Each moan that escaped her lips was from the sheer experience and sight of it all. His desperate humping shook the creaking bed with the added power from his size, she was firmly held in place by his mass, and she could hear him panting and gasping for air. Emmy was even beginning to feel his sweat dripping on her from the exertion as he tried to get as much friction as he could. Even if she wasn't getting her sweet spot rammed, everything else was erotic enough to still make it interesting.

Emmy pulled his head down closer, brushing away the sweaty hair clinging to the side of his face. She got at close as she could, her lips a mere inch away from his ear.

"I love you, Des." Emmy whispered. The puff of hot breath on his ear made him shudder and start groaning from the back of his throat. "You're so handsome, so good. Nobody else, only you." Desmond's moans started to turn into high-pitched whines. At this point, he was far beyond being able to talk normally. "I love you the most in the whooole world. My sweet boy, so perfect..." The man in question was falling apart; they both knew he could never resist her praise. The white-hot heat filling up his core was beginning to spill over. He shook his hips as hard as he could, making the slapping of their skin echo around the room even louder. He leaned down farther to nuzzle his mouth into the crook of her neck to muffle a shout as he came, completely coating her insides.

Desmond laid on top of her, catching his breath. He didn't move, and just waited for his manhood to soften and flop out of her. All he could manage was to rest on top of her, which of course Emmy didn't mind. Desmond wanted to take a long nap, but remembering Emmy was there jolted him awake. He pushed himself off her and sat upright.

"You didn't feel anything, did you?" Desmond asked, guilty of his own selfishness. Emmy blinked at him before looking away.

"Um... that's..." He was right. Desmond didn't need her to finish her sentence for him to understand; her eyes said it all. Emmy couldn't feel anything besides the weight on top of her. "I thought so... I'm sorry." Desmond moved down to be eye-level with her sex. Emmy, still looking to her side, didn't realize and continued talking.

"No, you— _Eep!_ " Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of damp heat on her clit. 

"Here, I'll make it up to you." Desmond shut back up to continue licking, simultaneously using his fingers to scoop his cum out of her. He would normally stop and allow himself to be mesmerized by the sight of his seed lazily oozing out and dripping down her sex, but now wasn't the time. _Emmy's_ pleasure was the focus, not his own. He kept kissing her as he began to curve his fingers inside her, trying to find that sweet bundle of nerves. Hearing her yelp interrupt the sounds of her panting signaled he'd found it.

As the man had hoped, Emmy was enjoying the attention. He was hitting every spot, making her fingers and toes ache from how hard they curled in response to the pleasure. She also enjoyed the feeling of his soft, warm cheeks pressing against her thighs. However, she had one last greedy request.

"Mm... Hey..." She panted between gasps. "Can you... act like you're eating...?" Desmond paused to look up at her quizzically. "Eating something... really tasty..." To anyone else, it may have seemed to be an overly vague request, but he understood based on his observations over the past few months.

"'Act?' Why, I'm already eating something delicious. No need to pretend." Desmond teased before diving back down. He purposely started licking as sloppily as he could. Emmy was sensitive to sounds, and he was very aware of the fact. He drooled all over her clit and slurped as loudly as he could, moaning audibly all the while. "Mmmohh... You taste so _good._ " Desmond was hamming up his reaction a bit, sure, but he wasn't lying by any means; Emmy had a way of always tasting salty and musky and _sweet_ in a way that nothing else could ever replicate. "Hahh... Mmm... Delicious." Every time he made a comment, he could hear Emmy's breath hitch and feel her clench harder around his fingers. Even though he didn't have the stamina to get hard again, she inadvertently made her every action insanely erotic.

Every time Desmond slurred out compliments between moaning and eating her out, shocks of electricity shot up Emmy's spine. Biting her lip, she held back from moaning so she wouldn't mask the sounds of the man enjoying her flavor. She wanted to watch him, but every muscle in her body was tightening up, including her eyelids. The combination of his fingers, tongue, and voice were culminating into an avalanche she wasn't sure she could handle. Suddenly, she felt something strange. 

"W-wai... St—!!" Emmy tried to fight against her own convulsing body to warn him. "I—! I'm—!" _Oh god._ It was too late. The pressure building up inside her overflowed and she felt hot liquid gush out of her as she came. The release felt great, better than usual, in fact, but... _I can't believe I just pissed myself._ After laying still or a few moments, she blinked her eyes open to look down at Desmond. He looked back at her, eyes wide with surprise as he wiped off his face with the back of his hand.

"That's... new." Desmond said, struggling to find the words. Emmy turned away in shame and squeezed her eyes shut. 

"I'm so sorry... Ugh. This is so embarrassing..." Emmy mumbled. Usually she could control herself in cases like this. What went wrong?

"Why?" Desmond asked, genuinely curious.

"'Why?' I just pissed all over your face..." Emmy looked lazily back at him.

"Huh? No you didn't." Emmy's eyes snapped open at his matter-of-fact statement.

"What? I felt like I had to pee... and your face is soaked!" 

"It's not urine, though. Doesn't smell." Desmond chuckled. "I think you... ejaculated." Emmy looked down, mouth agape.

"I... didn't know I could do that." 

"Me neither." Desmond replied. "You've never squirted before. At least, not that I've noticed." He sucked the wetness off his fingers. "Hm. Not bad."

"Eww! Don't taste it!" Emmy snorted. "You're such perv!"

"Hey now, I think I deserve a little more appreciation than that for making you cum so hard." Desmond replied in mock indignation. "Especially because I—" He was interrupted by a powerful yawn.

"Because you wanted to take a nap right after you came?" Emmy laughed. She pushed herself off the bed, her limbs still twitching as she stood up. "Let's at least shower off first. You always gotta shower after you exercise!" The man looked at her blankly before his eyes widened with surprise.

"Oh! ...Somehow I forgot we were exercising." Desmond laughed. Emmy giggled back at him as she grabbed his arm to lead him to the bathroom.

"You can't just forget! Speaking of which..." The girl led him to the bathroom scale. "Let's see if it worked! You have to start weighing yourself regularly anyway, may as well start now." Desmond grimaced and reluctantly stood on the scale. The digital numbers ticked back and forth until...

"I only lost one-third of a pound." Desmond sighed. Emmy patted him on the back.

"That's progress! We only need to do that again..." Emmy started to count on her fingers.

"Three hundred or so more times..." Desmond completed her sentence and sighed again. Emmy huffed at his dejected tone.

"Hey! Don't sigh like that! Or do you really _not_ want an excuse to fuck me every single day for the rest of the year?" Desmond perked up again.

"Well, when you put it like _that_..." He concluded the thought with another contagious yawn.

"You're making me tired now too. Let's hurry and shower so we can go back to bed." 

Emmy twisted the squeaky faucet on and held her hand out to feel the water temperature. Stepping inside the shower, she let the steam envelope her as she stood under the shower head. Desmond came in after her, thanking his lucky stars the shower was big enough for the both of them. Emmy moved out of the way of the shower head and watched Desmond from the other side. The way the water made his thick body glisten under the incandescent lights was stunning. When he reached up to scrub his hair, the flab on his arms swayed in the stream of water. His long, burgundy hair spilled over his shoulders beautifully. All Emmy could do was gawk from a distance.

"...my..." She vaguely registered him talking. " _Emmy._ " He repeated, snapping her out of her trance.

"Y-Yeah? What is it?" Emmy stammered, tearing her gaze away from the visual feast in front of her to look into his eyes. 

"I said, I think I know why today was different for you." Desmond kept talking as he reached for shampoo. Had he realized Emmy was developing a fat fetish in addition to feedism? Was he about to out her and say how disgusted he was? Emmy pretended to preoccupy herself with a loofah to hide her nervousness. "It felt better for you because you actually told me what you wanted." 

"Huh?" Emmy looked back up at him.

"You're always so guarded regarding your preferences." Desmond started sudsing his hair. "You actually made a request without me dragging it out of you or guessing what you want me to do." He moved back under the water to rinse the shampoo out, combing his hair with his fingers. "I keep telling you it's all right to be honest with me. I won't judge you." Emmy let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Then..." Emmy squeezed the loofah she was fiddling with. "Can I wash you?" Her heart thudded so hard in her chest, she wouldn't be surprised if Desmond could hear it, even over the sounds of rushing water. She wanted to touch him _so badly._ At this point, it was worth letting her guard down in favor of her own pleasure.

"Sure...? If you want...?" Desmond didn't realize how such an innocuous request had anything to do with what he was saying. It wasn't as if they hadn't done that sort of thing before. He shrugged and held up a washcloth for her, but she pushed it away.

"No... I wanna use my hands..." Emmy grabbed a soap bottle and squeezed a generous amount on her hands. She lathered it a bit before spreading most of it onto her front. "...And my body..." Walking closer to him, she could feel her face heat up from more than just the steam of the shower. She hesitated only a moment before squeezing him into a crushing hug. Grinding her chest and torso against every part of his that she could reach, Emmy looped her arms through his to reach at his back, trying her best to coat him with soap. She still wasn't ready to look at him, so all she could do was hope his little gasps were a sign that he enjoyed it.

"Um... The food thing... it was just embarrassing. That's why I didn't tell you sooner." Emmy began to grasp at his back rolls, enjoying the feeling of the fat seeping out from between her fingers. "But..." She breathed. "I've seen how you look at yourself in the mirror, and I didn't want to make it worse."

"Hm? Make what worse?" Desmond was still at a loss for what was happening, but as long as he was wrapped in his lover's embrace, he was more than content.

"The truth is.." Emmy pulled her hands back from behind him. "I...I-I..." Her hands kept moving towards his hips. "I love your tummy...!" She squatted down to smush her face into his belly as she kneaded the underside with her fingers. "Even before this, when you'd look in the mirror and gripe about it, I always loved it!" Confessing let her words run loose; her speech began to speed up in spite of being muffled by stomach rolls. "So cute and soft. I... _I love it!_ " She kept her face buried there for a moment before looking up at him. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel bad, or—"

"You can always tell me anything, Emmy. I don't mind—" Desmond interjected before Emmy cut him off in return.

"Let me finish. I didn't want you to feel bad, but I didn't want you to push yourself just for me, either." Emmy stood back up to nuzzle the side of her face into his soft chest. "You let me stuff you with food for _months,_ and now look at you. All morning you looked like you were about to cry." Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered it. "My kinks aren't worth making you feel self-conscious and sad." 

Desmond blinked wordlessly, still absorbing all of the information Emmy had just dumped on him. He wasn't sure what to say.

"...Well! That explains why you squirted today, doesn't it!" Desmond chuckled. Emmy looked up at him with watery eyes, pouting.

"Desmond, I'm being serious." She didn't need to tell him that; her using his full name was indication enough. Desmond exhaled and pulled her into a hug with one arm, using his other hand to pet her head.

"I don't know what you want me to say, darling. Do you want me to get angry at you?" Emmy looked down at the floor again. Desmond sighed. "If it's any consolation, hearing you say that makes me feel better about my weight." He paused to give her time to respond, but she only pressed her face tighter into his chest. "You said you'd help me lose the weight, that we'd do it together. Is that still true?" He felt her nod slowly. "Then there's nothing for me to be upset about." Desmond kept rubbing her head for a time before speaking again. "I think we should probably finish soon, or we'll use up all the hot water." He let go of the girl and started to rinse off, stepping out quickly to give her space to wash off.

Desmond was trying to wrap a towel around himself as Emmy came out of the shower. Seeing him struggle to make it wrap around his body when it used to easily cover him made her blush before looking away in guilt again. He gave up and dried himself off normally before going to the mirror to brush his hair out. Emmy did the same, quickly tugging the brush through her mess of hair so she could leave the room as soon as possible. She hurried out to roll into bed, leaving Desmond to watch her leave through the reflection of the mirror.

After completing his usual hair and skin regimen, Desmond came back out to see Emmy tucked tightly in bed, quite nearly in a fetal position. He frowned sadly before getting under the covers himself. The man laid with his arms folded under his head, staring at the canopy, as Emmy faced away from him.

"You can be angry and disgusted with me, you know." Emmy mumbled, breaking the silence. "You have the right." Even if Emmy wasn't about to turn around, Desmond turned his head to face her as he responded.

"I'm neither of those things." He said calmly. "You've... seen me when I'm angry and disgusted." Desmond hinted at his outbursts as Descole in the past, ashamed of himself. He heard Emmy sniffle in response. "...You know, back in those days, I only ate food as quick fuel. Meal replacements, bars, drinks... that sort of thing. It was only to keep me going so I could keep working, keep fighting for revenge." Desmond faced back up at the ceiling again. "So, I've found myself really enjoying our dinners together. Food is more than just fuel for me now. It's almost as if it's your love and care for me, materialized." Desmond's eyes began to blink shut. "Sorry, I'm prattling on again. Get some rest." He yawned. "Oh, almost forgot. You said you liked how 'soft' I am? You don't have to ask to touch me... I'd never turn down an opportunity like that." He pulled his side of the blanket up to his shoulders and fully shut his eyes. "Sleep we—"

Before he could finish speaking, Desmond was distracted by a tight squeeze around his midsection. Emmy had quietly scooted over to snuggle into him again. 

"...I love you." She whispered. "Thank you..." Desmond smiled and stretched his arm out to provide a pillow for her, which she laid her head on immediately. 

"I love you too, darling. Always and forever." 

Merely being in each other's presence made falling asleep a simple feat, quickly dozing off to sleep for a second time as the day passed by outside their room.

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao this is my 8th work on here and its about how a guy ate... eight...lol


End file.
